


Who's the Devourer Now?

by Orecec



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: Big Ass, Deepthroating, M/M, Prostitution, Swallowing, blowjob, it's Fucking Enormous, no, really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 00:19:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12243432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orecec/pseuds/Orecec





	Who's the Devourer Now?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoHt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoHt/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Canon City Tales: Gwyndolin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11842716) by [GoHt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoHt/pseuds/GoHt). 



The city of hedonism.The world capital of pleasure and debauchery. Anor Londo.

Drugs flow through the streets like ale, and ale flows like water. Metaphorically, of course; drinking water is quite scarce, as the majority of the city's visitors go home to nurse their hangovers and pleasantly aching loins.

The sources of said aches strut boldly through the streets, filling the air with clackong sounds that act as the dinner bell for sex-hungry men. Prostitution isn't legal, per se, but it might as well be. Police pick up streetwalkers periodically, and if they wish to avoid prosecution, then they had better get to work. Only the best whores are released to the streets, and the police act as a screen, or a taste tester, if you will.

Small wonder that the precinct is filled to the ceiling with applications from all over the world. This also means that the officers that are picked are top human specimens. More often than not, streetwalkers are overjoyed to be arrested.

If you don't manage to meet their high standards, though, either in looks, fashion, or skill, then you can look forward to a night in the lockup. This screening process ensures that only the highest quality sluts are available for use. Any and every body you could find is available; Hollows, plump goddesses, firekeepers, spider girls, and even a few nagi. But throughout the entire city, there is but one trap. Since the applicants to the force are all straight men, there is only one who judges traps, and his standards are notoriously high. Many have tried, and all but one have failed.

This particular trap is a bit of a special case. His face, partially obscured by a large crown, is soft and girlish. His lips are puffy and voluptuous, a bright, glossy pink.

He has puffy, cute cheeks, and a small nose.

His lower cheeks are just as appealing. Massive, round, plump, and gravity-defying, the circular cheeks are barely half covered by a short black leather skirt. A bright pink thong comes up to rest on his waist, lewdly stretching over his taut pucker. The rotund rump reaches a stop at a sharp angle, hanging over the beginning of the thighs.

His thighs are almost cartoonish in proportion to match his ass. Massive, pale, plump and pliant, the curvy stems flow into sexy, curvy calves, round and voluptuous. His feet are small and pointed, peeping out from his heels to show his cute, painted toes.

His torso is bare save for a pink tube top and a black lace choker, his nipples poking through the thin top. His arms are thin and toned, along with his smooth, cute tummy.

His chest has a small amount of flab, just enough to make his perky nipples bounce and jiggle.

His thighs are wrapped in padded, lacy garters, which he slides down to his knees whenever he is using his mouth to service a gentleman.

Like now.

In the heart of the city, there is a single alleyway that is always empty, tucked away through a maze of winding roads, narrow alleys, and large pipes. Nestled between two large clusters of pipes is a large area, the size of a living room, that young Gwyndolin uses as his own. A clean dumpster is pushed up against the wall, used during alleyway roleplay. Dirty alleyway roleplay in a clean alleyway. How meta.

A large, waterproof tarp of fine canvas hangs overhead, neatly directing the pouring rain down into the storm drains. The pipes block out the cool wind, and the area is carpeted with a large, lush rug, with tasseled satin pillows strewn about large cushions and foam sex chairs of different shapes. A fire crackles in a pit, tended to by the sexy trap.

"Help yourself to some sparkling water," Gwyndolin purrs, gesturing to a nearby champagne cooler. Over the years, he has attained plenty of high class customers, and he uses this 'room' for them. Of course, he loves being fucked like a common, filthy slut just as much, but he uses the normal dumpsters and dingy alleyways for that. There is just something about being slammed into a filthy dumpster as he is reamed that drives him wild. It's such a perverse, depraved act, his customers so desperate to pump their precious seed in a hole, any hole, and the desperation and lack of dignity for either of them is the purest ecstacy to Gwyndolin.

"Thanks," the man replies. He wears a dark green dress shirt and chinos, an outfit that sets Gwyndolin's heart to racing. Wordlessly, he slides the garters over his knees and kneels, unbuttoning the mans trousers and freeing his bulbous length.

It springs free, standing tall and proud, veins bulging under the thick head.

It has a wonderful stench to it; a scent so irresistible, so indescribable, so addicting. Just another reason Gwyndolin loves whoring himself out; that thick, heady stench that only gets better the more time passes without washing.

He presses his face up against it, his nose right under the head. He breathes deeply, eyes rolling back as he takes in the scent.

He lewdly stretches his toungue out, running it across the corona. A bit of white mass sticks to his tongue, but Gwyndolin doesn't care, instead bringing his tongue into his mouth to savor it.

Unable to wait any longer, he wraps his lips around the head, sucking firmly as his deft tongue massages the rim. He pulls back, sucking with all his might on the glans before moving forth and taking the entire length into his throat. He hums, and his vocal chords stimulate the manly frenulum. The man groans, a glob of precum oozing from his glans, which Gwyndolin greedily gulps. The little slut's own shaft begins to lengthen, reaching an undersized three and a half inches, twitching cutely, only the pinkish glans uncoverd by foreskin.

"I could keep coming here 'til the day I die," The man sighs, leaning back on the cushions. "You're the best, Gwinny." Gwyndolins eyes smile. This customer is one of his regulars, having come here at least once a week without fail for six months. He always paid in full, plus a tip, and he never asked for a discount. He likely wouldn't accept one even if the femboy offered. Wether it's a blowjob in a Bentley or a dicking in the dumpster, he always treats Gwyndolin like a queen, never being rough unless asked.

The curvy streetwalker deep throats the large penis, nuzzling his cheek against the customer's mons pubis while licking his balls. He undulates his throat around it, humming. While it isn't the biggest cock the pale slut has throated (that honor belongs to the quarter back in highscool. He had turned Gwyndolin into quite the wide receiver,) it is girthy, so much so that Gwyndolin can barely wrap his mouth around the thick meat. It is decently long, a mouth-watering ten-and-a-quarter inches.

Even for a cock, it is warm, and Gwyndolin knows a thing or two about warm cocks. He had throated many a sweaty cock in the warm summer months. The customer's cock had a wide, incredibly bulbous head that would deliciously scrape along Gwyndolin's rectum, making constant wet pops as it plunges in and out. Perhaps the most unique feature is it's density- it must weigh a full three pounds!

Gwyndolin suckles the glans, lavishing the frenulum with his lewd, wet tonge.

"Guh! Oh shit Gwinny, I'm gonna... UNG... AAAAH!"

The scantily clad prostitute plunges down one last time as the bulbous head throbs. He pulls back at the last second, slurping the mushroom tip with all his might. The man groans so loudly that it scares off birds a block away as thick, rich ropes of penis protein launch down Gwyndolins throat. The little slut continues sucking, drawing out every drop of his favorite drink. Finally, the man is spent. Scooping an errant drop up with his middle finger, Gwyndolin flashes the contents of his mouth to his esteemed client. The seed is so thick that it oozes in the wet cavern, and is difficult to swallow. If 'Gwinny' didn't know any better, he would say that this client saves it for him...

The crowned hooker swallows the heavy load, his lips open in a hazy smile. Oh, to be paid to swallow this delicious milk is surely a miracle. Gwyndolin wants for nothing; his skills ensured his spot at the most exspensive, luxurious apartment building in all of Anor Londo. Add that to the fact that he literally makes a living doing his absolute favorite activity, taking dick, and life is just about perfect.

Gwyndolin beams and throws his arms around his customer's neck, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"Come again, Aldritch."


End file.
